


Yours

by sonlali



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gingerbread Houses, Holiday Traditions, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21826909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonlali/pseuds/sonlali
Summary: David and Patrick decorate a gingerbread house together.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 64
Kudos: 124
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	Yours

“I just don’t understand why we would buy all this candy and then _not_ eat it.” David is staring longingly at a package of red vines with his lips pursed in a pout so adorable that Patrick can’t resist leaning over and kissing him. David inhales sharply in surprise but quickly melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and humming happily.

Patrick pulls away slowly, pressing a final kiss to one of David’s dimples and feeling warmth spread through his entire body at the way David ducks his head and twists his lips to the side to hide his grin. 

“Because, David, it’s a fun holiday activity _and_ because I bought an extra bag of marshmallows for us to have with our cocoa…” David’s eyes light up. “But only if you agree to decorate a gingerbread house with me.” Patrick drops a quick kiss to David’s temple and disentangles from their embrace, knowing that he has won. 

“Mm, okay, but I don’t actually think it’s in the holiday spirit to be so devious and calculating, Patrick,” David says, but he’s clearing off a space on the table for them to set up their decorating station anyway. 

Once they are surrounded by gingerbread, far too many dishes of sweets, and two steaming mugs of hot cocoa (David’s topped with extra marshmallows), David is looking far more agreeable to the afternoon’s proposed activity. 

When David had shared that he has never decorated a gingerbread house before, Patrick immediately knew he had to share this experience with him. Now that it’s actually happening, he’s starting to feel giddy with excitement. 

“Each Christmas, my cousins held a competition over who could create the best gingerbread house, and we had different themes each year. Like one year, it was sports themed and Jack knocked down the roof of his house to create a hockey rink!”

“He was disqualified, right?” David looks aghast at the very idea. 

“What? No! He won! It was awesome!” 

“But he damaged the structural integrity of the house! It’s not a house if there isn’t a roof!” A splash of cocoa sloshes over the edge of David’s mug as he waves his hands in outrage.

“David, it’s just supposed to be fun! The houses aren’t going to be rented out to tenants.” Patrick reaches over to take David’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s just have fun, okay?”

David gives Patrick what is clearly meant to be a highly skeptical look, but it comes out looking more like a suppressed smile. Patrick grins broadly in return and reaches for the gingerbread walls.

“Wait!” David exclaims, and Patrick steps away from the table with his hands raised in mock surrender. “You said you always made it a competition with your cousins, so let’s do that. You decorate one side, I’ll do the other, and then we’ll see whose is best.”

“Is there a theme?” Patrick feels a grin spreading across his face at David’s sudden enthusiasm for an activity he had earlier in the day declared only suitable for “cannibal witches hoping to lure children into a trap.”

“No theme.” David primly takes a sip of his cocoa and stares Patrick down. “Just whichever one I like the best wins.”

“Oh, so you’re the judge then?” Patrick puts a hand over his mouth to cover his smile.

“Mm.” David nods seriously. 

“Ah, I see. I gotta say, I feel like this competition is tilted slightly in your favor, David.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” David’s eyes crinkle in delight, and _oh_ , Patrick loves him so much. 

“Okay, David.”

Patrick sets to work immediately, spreading frosting over the edges of the gingerbread walls to adhere them to the base. He looks up when he notices that David hasn’t moved. 

“David, I can’t really work on my side if you don’t start yours. You see, the house will just tip over if it’s missing walls.”

“Excuse you, I’m planning. Would you trust a structure that had been designed by an architect who hadn’t put careful consideration and planning into the construction? If the builders just haphazardly threw walls together like madmen?” David is staring intently at a piece of gingerbread, and Patrick notices a doodle drawn on the edge of a napkin.

“David, you aren’t an architect! It’s a square house. There’s four walls that need to be stuck to the base, and then you put the roof on top. You don’t need to draw up a blueprint.” Patrick is torn between exasperation and amusement. 

“Fine!” David throws one hand up in the air and subtly crumbles up the napkin with the other. “We’ll do it your way, but when it all comes crashing down, I absolutely _will_ say ‘I told you so.’”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Patrick nods solemnly. 

They manage to get the house constructed without further issue, although Patrick privately notices that the wall on his side is leaning ominously inwards. He most certainly will _not_ be sharing this observation with David, so he slaps a bit more frosting on and determines it steady enough. 

Next, they begin decorating, which is what Patrick is most looking forward to. He begins eagerly sticking M&Ms and chocolate chips to his side of the rooftop, humming “Jingle Bells” under his breath. David is looking thoughtfully at the candy options but appears to be making no moves to actually decorate his side. He sifts through a pile of gumdrops, sorting them into separate piles for each color. 

“David, you aren’t seriously going to create a mood board for your decorations, are you?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t possibly fully mood-board a color scheme in this length of time.” David nudges a pile of white gumdrops to the side and raises one eyebrow disparagingly. 

“No, of course not. How silly of me.” Patrick grabs a gumdrop and pops it in his mouth. 

“Patrick!” David exclaims. “You can’t just _eat_ the decorations!”

“David, _you_ were the one complaining about buying candy and not eating it.”

“That was _before_ we initiated the decorating process. These are no longer pieces of candy, but instruments of design.” David smacks a gummy candy from Patrick’s hand just before it could reach his mouth. 

“Okay, David, no more eating the _instruments of design_. I promise.” Patrick holds out his hand. “Pinky swear?”

David rolls his eyes and huffs but holds out his pinky. Patrick takes hold of his whole hand and pulls it to his mouth, kissing across David’s knuckles. David flushes sweetly, and Patrick’s stomach flips with joy. It doesn’t matter how many times he kisses David, Patrick feels overwhelmed with happiness each time. David tugs his hand back and grabs his cocoa, smiling into the mug. 

“I’m really glad to be spending this time with you, David.” 

“That’s… uh, that is a really lovely thing to say.” David shifts his gaze to the side and bites back a smile. 

“And I’m so glad you organized this really special date for us, Patrick, so we could spend this time together.” Patrick teases.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” David grumbles, but knocks a foot against Patrick’s under the table playfully. 

Patrick is a proud expert in the field of David Rose nonverbal communication, so he gently nudges back in a silent _I love you, too_ , thrilling in the private smile that quirks David's mouth upwards.

They continue decorating in relative silence after that—David with artful swirls of frosting and carefully arranged neutral-toned candies and Patrick with brightly-colored confections obscuring the entirety of his side of the house. Patrick smiles as he notices that David is now softly humming “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” He cherishes these moments when David’s guard is completely down and he is relaxed and happy. 

Patrick thinks back to a late-night conversation they had earlier this week, curled toward each other in bed with their heads resting on the same pillow. Patrick had been talking about his favorite childhood memories from the holidays. He recounted tales of decorating the Christmas tree with his parents, sledding with his cousins, and making gingerbread houses. David had listened with rapt attention, his eyes wide and shining with awe, and Patrick realized that what he had taken for granted as ordinary childhood experiences were complete novelties to David. 

David had been glib about his own childhood memories from the December holidays, repeating stories Patrick had already heard about the lavish Rose family Christmas parties. When pressed further, David admitted to a vague memory from when he was about five years old and his dad had sat David and Alexis down to tell them all about Hanukkah. 

“It was… nice, I guess.” David’s voice had been low and intimate. Patrick had felt so privileged to be trusted with this story David had clearly never shared before. “It wasn’t often that Dad gave us so much undivided attention. Alexis eventually fell asleep in my lap when Dad launched into an unabridged account of the past several thousand years of Jewish history. But I just wanted him to keep talking.”

Patrick recalls how David had shrugged off the memory, pretending to be completely unaffected. Patrick had decided in that moment that he was going to give David all the happy holiday memories he never got to have as a child. He would give David gingerbread houses, Christmas cookies, and ice skating. Patrick watches now as David—tongue poking between his teeth in concentration—works on an intricate design in the frosting on the roof, and he has to briefly shut his eyes against a wave of emotion. 

Patrick thinks back to last year’s spontaneous Christmas party. Although David would never admit it, Patrick could tell how much it meant to him to spend that time with his family. He wants to ensure that David has more of these experiences with his family, wants to share in those moments with him and create new holiday memories together. He wants to spend the rest of his life giving David countless happy memories. He wants to give David everything. 

Tearing his eyes away from David, Patrick sticks a marshmallow to the house and watches with wide eyes as the wall on his side slowly begins to cave into the middle, nearly knocking down the entire structure. 

“Patrick!” David shrieks with the same horror that would be appropriate if the actual walls of Patrick’s apartment were collapsing. “I told you—”

“It’s fine, David.” Patrick rushes to pick up the fallen wall before any of David’s work is compromised. “I got this. It’s fine, see?”

David peers over at Patrick’s side. “You’ve put far too many candies on that wall. No wonder it collapsed.”

“Keep your eyes on your own side!” Patrick scolds as firmly as he can manage while stifling a laugh. He can’t help but be amused when David looks so grave over a gingerbread house. “I can fix this. You just focus on your half.”

David sniffs huffily and examines his side for any damage. Patrick scrapes off most of the decorations on his half and decides to start anew. Sometimes a fresh start is just exactly what is needed. 

\--

Patrick has finished decorating, cleaned up the mess on his side of the table, washed both of their mugs, and read two chapters of his book before David finally deems his side of the house ready for presentation. 

“Shall we save the best for last or…?” David shimmies his shoulders and flashes a crooked grin across the table. 

“Yes, best for last.” Patrick walks over to look at David’s work. “So let’s see yours then.” He just barely manages to jump back in time to avoid David’s angry swatting, laughing so hard at the expression on David’s face that his sides ache.

When he’s finally able to get himself under control, Patrick focuses on the gingerbread house and feels his jaw drop. 

“David, this is beautiful!” Patrick is bowled over by an enormous rush of fondness for this incredible, talented, ridiculous man. This man who argued for 45 minutes that wasting perfectly good candy on a pointless activity is utterly absurd. This man who meticulously decorated for over two hours to create what Patrick can only describe as a gingerbread masterpiece. This man who Patrick loves so much that sometimes he feels like his overwhelming affection will bubble up and overflow right out of him. The expression on David’s face as he looks up at Patrick is so open and warm that Patrick can’t help himself from leaning down and kissing David with everything he has. 

When Patrick finally pulls away, David blinks his eyes open slowly, smiling in a dazed sort of way. 

“What… Patrick?” David sounds breathless, and Patrick allows himself a moment to feel smug before he tugs on David’s arm, encouraging him to stand up. 

“You’re so amazing, David. It’s so beautiful. _You’re_ so beautiful. Thank you for doing this with me.” Patrick indulges in one more lingering kiss and then drags David over to the other side of the table. “Okay, so I don’t have your artistic talent, but…”

David looks at Patrick’s decorations and lets out a gasp, spinning in Patrick’s arms to face him, his eyes swimming with tears. 

“Patrick,” he breathes and buries his face in Patrick’s chest. Patrick rubs at David’s back soothingly, mildly bemused. 

“David, it’s just a silly little thing. I knew I would never be able to make something as beautiful as you can, so I just wanted to make you smile. I… wasn’t expecting this reaction.”

David pulls away and looks at Patrick incredulously. 

“I think it’s beautiful.” His eyes are glistening as he looks back at the gingerbread house where Patrick had arranged jellybeans to spell out “I ♡ you” on the rooftop. Patrick’s stomach flips and he holds David closer.

“We still need to declare a winner, love. On the count of three?” At David’s nod, Patrick counts. “Three, two, one…”

They speak simultaneously with matching smiles stretching across their faces. 

“Yours.”


End file.
